


Well fed, well mannered and wealthy.

by Efyor



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M, Rhoshamandes - Freeform, de Landen vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efyor/pseuds/Efyor
Summary: A short written for a question I received on my Everard de Landen roleplay account.Everard de Landen meeting Rhoshamandes for the first time.
Relationships: Rhoshamandes/Everard
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Well fed, well mannered and wealthy.

It would have been easy to get lost in these woods, but as the lantern bobbed in front of him, it did not one second cross his mind something might have been guiding him. No, he trusted it were his instincts that were on point, despite during hunts never venturing this deep, this close towards the stoop of the hill. But that was his destination, for half way that hill, the castle to which he was summoned towered dark and majestic against the face of that hill.

He could not see it yet from down below and yet Everard de Landen knew he was going the right way. A good hour by foot, perhaps more due to the forest terrain, he had dressed accordingly and yet well enough to present himself decently when he arrived. His finest set of clothing, matching hat and his fingers adorned with gem encrusted rings. Over on top this all, Everard wore a light weight but dark, fur lined cloak to easily obscure the light or simply hide behind when he would hear a skirmish or something of the sort. But it was dark and it was quite chilly so any bandit would be dumb to be hiding here all night to jump someone that might never appear.

Everard had heard of the man in the castle plenty of times. Had even seen him once, even though someone had informed him after the fact. A memory of the man’s eyes had remained. The mysterious Rhoshamandes. The tall, handsome, blue eyed foreigner. The Lord of the lonely castle that was one day rumoured to be a loaded hermit and the other to be a powerful alchemist. Either way, being summoned by him seemed a big deal and if it could help Everard gain more status or wealth or security for his family, he could not care less what the rumours were.

There it was. Unlike many skeptics down at the tavern, Everard had found the clearly made path up to the castle gates. He deserved way more credit than those gave him. 

He suddenly started to feel slightly anxious while his footwear adjusted from mossy ground to stone steps. He had not been informed at all what to expect or what to bring. He did not even know yet what he was summoned for. But he shrugged it off. Everard was everything but shy and rarely had anything to worry about or break his head over. The Great Rhoshamandes wanted specifically him, Everard de Landen, to come so he should be the one having prepared a subject matter, not Everard himself.

The gates opened on their own and as he took the remaining steps up the hill towards the wooden doors, he tried to detect a rope or pulley, but it was so dark, none were detected.  
Once arrived at the doors, he knocked a few times on the wood and waited. But no answer came and Everard, being quite impatient by nature, pushed at the doors which surprisingly opened.

The gaping entrance hall was well lit, but the only sound was of the big, moaning doors, a strange sight for such a big castle as there seemed to be no one moving about. No noblemen or whispering women or even servants. Nothing.

Everard stood there for a moment, baffled, expecting the ‘loaded hermit’ to have more than just brick and candle wax. But there was really just silence. The moment Everard wondered where he had to go next, where to find his host, it seemed a breeze passed through the hallway. No, more like a breath, as if the castle itself heaved a sigh and it pulled Everard’s attention inexplicably towards one of the many doors lining the wall. While slowly removing his cloak, he moved towards it and it was here that he found him.

The light from the fireplace did him well justice, as he stood there as Everard remembered him from that one encounter, only this time he saw it all. . The Great Rhoshamandes. But it was when the man turned to look at him, fixing those blue eyes onto Everard’s that a heavy shudder climbed down the Frenchman’s spine. A weak, but familiar feeling back to torment him, like a nail scratching at wood, revealing slowly a part of himself he wished he could bury with the dogs. Attraction. And not the kind that grew after a few hours of secret glances across a hall, no, this was instant and it startled him because without any word spoken, he felt like the man knew. With that knowledge came danger and so, like so many other times, Everard quite professionally decided to ignore it, continuing with the reel he was more familiar with and bowed his head politely before looking back up at that sculpted, strong face.

“My name is Everard de Landen.” he said with his usual boastful confidence, traveling cloak folded over one arm. “You had me summoned, my Lord.“

Rhoshamandes did not speak but calmly walked up to him. To Everard’s surprise, Rhoshamandes’ cold fingers then curbed around his chin, slowly moving his face from left to right, inspecting it.  
Everard had the feeling of something strongly but pleasantly clenching his insides, the proximity and touch rousing feelings he did not want to acknowledge and yet that awareness of it from the impossible man before him made Everard suddenly realise why he might be here. The thought of being here for the man’s pleasure was an unthinkable one and yet it seemed so convenient. The empty castle, without prying eyes and a man that rarely spoke to the towns people. What a horribly heinous thing to think of, but Everard suddenly seemed unable to shut it out- the possibility of experiencing something life out there would never allow- And if there was reward involved, so many other tasks could be conjured up to come back home with a convincing story of proper labour and establishing good connections.

A chilly thumb pushed Everard’s lip up and when Rhoshamandes seemed to examine Everard’s teeth, it was the first time he spoke to him.  
“Are you physically well, Everard de Landen?“ it came out with a leisurely allure and the way the man’s strong voice carried his name, almost made Everard weak in the knees.

“Yes, Lord. I am well fed, well mannered and weal-thy.“ he said with jest, trying to push away these outrageous feelings he would not dare bring with him to the confessional. “If I may ask- why am I here?“ Everard finally dared utter.  
“For my entertainment.“ Rhoshamandes answered simply with a subtle raise of his eyebrows, as if such a thing should have been a given.

Everard, not wanting to make a hedonistic fool of himself in front of his host, decided to keep ignoring that one, blasphemous possibility. “My lute skills are quite atrocious, Lord, but I can sing and I can read-”

But Everard’s sentence was cut short by the man suddenly grabbing his chin quite firmly, looking down at him and just uttering the words;  
“Take your clothes off.“

~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on headcanon's that me and a Rhoshamandes role player created, before the Alphabettery came out. We stick to our story because the Alphabettery had a lot of inconsistencies with the books and we do not lean on it for proper info on these two.


End file.
